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Komatsu was so tired, so, so, so tired. Exhaustion made his bones heavy and his eyelids drag with each blink. He rubbed his eyes and swayed as a starburst of black dots swarmed across his vision, clouding it temporarily. He paused to reached back and adjust his backpack, then remembered Toriko had relieved him of it earlier, smiling at Komatsu's protests, running his hand through the soft spikes of his tiny partner's hair.

Komatsu looked up toward the broad back of the bishokukai's back, walking only a little ahead of him. He knew that Toriko had slowed down for him, catching the frequent, concerned glances that the heavenly king was throwing him. He forced one foot in front of the other. He could keep going, he would keep going for Toriko.

A loose rock skidded beneath his foot and he stumbled, bracing himself for an impact that never came. A wide, warm arm had caught him round the middle, hoisting him up into the air. Toriko. The heavenly king settled Komatsu into the crook of him arm, supporting him gently, the little chef's back settled against a oversized bicep, his head resting again his shoulder. Komatsu's hands grabbed Toriko's forearm and he wiggled, trying to work his way out of Toriko's hold on him.

"I'm fine Toriko-San! I can still-"

"Komatsu."

The voice was warm, full of affection. Komatsu looked up, Toriko was watching him with smiling eyes. He shifted his grip on Komatsu one hand circled his waist, the other under the little chef's thighs which, effectively, trapped him in place.

"It’s okay, Komatsu."

The tiny chef felt the long strands of Toriko's hair brush his cheek as he relaxed into the embrace, his head rested against the King's collarbone. He would never win against Toriko anyway. He was so stupidly warm; smooth skin pressed against the chef's face as he curled into the wide, muscled chest. The strong pound of the bishokukai's heart and long swaying strides numbed his mind as he heard Toriko softly tell him to sleep. His eyes slipped closed as he drank in the smell and touch and sound of his partner, drifting quickly into oblivion.

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Komatsu shifted slowly rising out of a dream-induced state, surrounded a snuggly warmth that was so comfortable and just perfect, he was tempted to just close his eye again. He sat up, a blanket pooled around his waist as he groped around, trying - to get his bearings. His hand brushed against something callused - rough but infinity strong feeling - and realised it was Toriko's finger. He curled his hand around it, becoming acutely aware he was still in the bishokukai's arms, his legs tangled in a blanket which Toriko had obviously covered him with, taking excruciating care not to wake him up, all the while protecting him from god-knows-what and everything inbetween: even in his sleep. A snore rose from the King's chest as he moved slightly, nose all scrunched up as he slept, sky coloured hair falling in disarray around his handsome face.

He smiled, the unending well of affection he had for the blue-haired glutton bubbling over as he gently lifted Toriko's fingers, twisting their hands together. He glanced up, checking Toriko was asleep, before leaning over and pressing a kiss to the back of the King's hand. He flushed as a deep, indulgent chuckle rumbled through the chest beneath him. Komatsu buried his face in the blanket as Toriko's other hand lifted up and stroked through his hair, cupping the back of his neck.

'I thought you were asleep.' Came the little chef's embarrassed whisper and Toriko smiled as he shifted to kiss the back of Komatsu's neck. He coaxed Komatsu's head up, brushing his lips against the rosy-coloured blush that covered both his partner's cheeks, laughing as the chef blushed an even deeper shade of pink.

"Toriko-San!"

The bishokukai silenced Komatsu's fluttering with a soft kiss, then tucked the blanket back round the little chef, wrapping his arms round him. Komatsu leaned back against Toriko's chest, smiling when the Heavenly King pressed his face into his shoulder, breathing deeply. He felt Toriko's lips curve up again the sensitive skin of his neck followed by warm, spicy breath as he opened his mouth to speak -

"Na, Komatsu, fancy a midnight snack?" This question was accompanied by a little kitten-ish lick. Komatsu let out a gasp - clearly Toriko was not going to play fair tonight. He sighed, then laughed.

"Yes, Toriko-San."

Fin.